Reforging the Spirit
by bluekrishna
Summary: Basic training. The moment you sign the paper, you resign yourself to going through it. Some take to it easier than other. Unfortunately for one Samantha Traynor, she is not one of them. Will the harrowing experience break her? Or will she find a way to succeed? Rated T for cursing. Written for Selena Shepard as part of a Secret Santa ficswap.


"-cold and muggy and I haven't had a chance to properly wash my hair in I don't know how long." Samantha sighed as she ran her fingers through the aforementioned strands, wrinkling her nose at the slight clingy sensation of oil creeping amid the roots of the dark and wavy mass. It was nice to release it from its tight, regulation bun. She addressed the holographic projection in front of her, "And some of the other serviceman recruits are downright insufferable. Jokes. Pranks. I frelling _hate_ it here."

"That might be one thing you might change. Not everyone will appreciate old science fiction serials as much as you. Only makes you seem weirder."

Chagrin filled her. Samantha waved off the barb toward her nerdish tendencies. "Their loss. Anyway, it's the off-color comments that really get to me. One guy peeked down my shirt and muttered something about an 'itty bitty titty commitee!'"

Her friend choked off what sounded suspiciously like a laugh. It turned into a cough when Samantha turned a glare in that direction. The asari looked away for a second before saying, "Ahem, um, well. Aren't there ways to report any inappropriate-"

"Don't you think I thought about that?" Samantha leaned back in her chair and looked out the window of the comms bunker. Heavy rain, almost sleet, pounded the mud. Some of the more enthusiastic recruits scampered out there in supplementary training exercises, eager to prove themselves dedicated. As dedicated as the everpresent ICT marines also at this base, training for "N" status.

Not her. No. She had a hard enough time keeping up with the regular training schedule to take on anything extra. Her muscles and joints still ached from earlier. "No. It's difficult enough for me here without causing problems."

"Sam, stick with it. It will get easier."

"I don't know if I can do this, Helia. It's not like I'm not trying. The recruiter made it seem like basic was a cakewalk."

"That's their job. To make it as enticing as possible."

"Well, he did a damn fine job then. I thought they really wanted me. That they really needed me. Then I get here and it's nothing like how I pictured it. I feel like I'm skirting the edge of disaster every second of every day." She scrubbed her cheek, angry that the tears she'd kept away for so long had spilled. At least no one in her unit was here to witness it. Just her one friend, a cultural student part of an interplanetary exchange program. On Earth, but so very far away.

"Have you talked to your parents? Maybe they can do something."

"I'm not running to mummy and daddy." Samantha snorted. "It will only make matters worse."

"Then I don't know how to help."

"And they-they were so proud of me." That started a fresh wave of tears, thinking of how they were going to be so disappointed. That she had turned out to be a disappointment after all they did to get her into the best schools, the most advanced courses.

Helia's face, pinched with worry and distress, loomed larger in the holo. She must have leaned forward. "Sam, if things take a turn for the worst, I'm here for you."

"If I wash out?" A sob forced its way out of her throat. "If I _fail_?"

"It's not the end."

"It sure feels like it." Panic fluttered around her heart. A dread certainty of doom.

"Sam? Sam, look at me," Helia said, strong, firm, pulling her out of her downward spiral of misery. Their gazes locked. The asari pressed her lips into a line. "I'm almost done here. If, _if_, the worst comes to pass, come home with me."

"To Thessia?" It came out as a warbling mewl. Samantha cringed inwardly at how childish she sounded.

"To Thessia. I'll finally get to show you the crystal gardens, the ancient's Dodecahelix, the Mysteries of Tarro. All the things I talked of that made your eyes go so huge."

Oddly, that made her feel a little better. An option, a way out. Samantha sniffed back the last of her tears, wiped her nose with a sleeve. "I need to see this through first, whatever the outcome."

"Of course. I'd expect no less from the stubborn girl who so brazenly challenged Matron Polgara T'Suzsa, that sour old cow, to a kepesh-yakshi match and nearly won."

Samantha looked down into her lap, watched her hands wring with anxiety while she thought about it. Maybe it wasn't the end, after all. The pressure, the terrible weight of expectation, her parent's and her own, lifted somewhat. She let herself breathe in the idea of the other path for a moment. "And then aliens abducted the girl and she was never heard from again."

"Well, I'd hope you'd come willingly." Helia hummed in amusement. "But if you'd rather I steal you from your bed one dark and stormy night-?"

Samantha chuckled. "Wouldn't that be something."

"Indeed." They exchanged wide smiles. Helia said, "Feel better?"

"I do." Samantha wiped her cheeks one more time. "A little embarrassed that you saw me blubber like a baby, but yeah, better. Thanks, Helia."

"Any time, Sam." Helia glanced upward, at something on the her side of the world. "I must go. Call me if you need _any_thing."

"I will. Goodbye, Helia."

* * *

><p>The sun beat down on her head as she laboured under the weight of a full pack. If yesterday had been a wet, cold misery, then today had to be one of the innermost circles of Hell. Who could live in a place like this? With its mad temperature swings?<p>

Her limbs shook and trembled as she slugged along behind the rest of her unit. The bipolar weather did its best to drive her into the crusty muck of yesterday's storm. It sucked at her boots and made it a herculean effort to place one foot in front of the other.

"Keep up, Traynor!" shouted the shouty man at the fore of the column. "Get the lead out!"

"Yes, drill sergeant!"

"You lot must be the slowest bunch of failures I have ever had the misfortune of training! If we don't get back by sundown, all of you are staying up for night drills!"

The recruits groaned in unison. Not a few angry and sour looks came her way. Samantha ducked her head in shame and pushed harder, but only managed to speed up a fraction.

The stomp of boots heralded the approach of Drill Instructor Sergeant Handy. She felt his breath on the side of her face, but didn't dare look at him as he shouted in her ear, "Problem, Traynor?"

"No, drill sergeant!" She almost fell, but caught herself and kept moving.

"_Looks_ like you have a problem, serviceman. I tell you to move faster and you _fail_ to obey! I tell you I will punish the whole unit unless you get your asses in gear, and it _fails_ to register. Just _what_ will it _take_ to get you _motivated_, serviceman?!"

"I don't know, drill sergeant!" Her face must be flaming by now. As hot with embarassment as the sun over their heads.

"Maybe if you spent less time writing love letters and fielding vid calls and more time building your stamina, we wouldn't be missing chow at the mess hall."

She resisted wiping his spittle from her cheek and grimaced as she forced her legs to lift a little higher, lengthen her stride a little further.

"Now we're getting somewhere, Traynor! A show of some minimal effort! Finally!" She just saw his teeth flashing in her periphery. "Are you happy with that, serviceman?! The bare minimum?!"

"No, drill sergeant!" Anger and resentment chased mortification through her spent and weary body in hot and cold waves. Every disgusted snort from her fellow soldiers poked holes in her already deflated water-balloon of self confidence. How silly the idea she could actually make it through this seemed now.

"I'll believe it when I see it!" With that ear-ringing declaration, he marched back up to the head of the group.

Despite her best efforts, the column ended up trudging back into camp an hour after sunset.

"Break out the field rations. Quarter of a protein bar each. Ten minutes before night drill." Another chorus of groans met the drill sergeant's pronouncement. He swept a glare over them and they quieted in its wake. "Shut it! Or it'll be a week of night drills for the lot of you!"

Samantha fell to her hands and knees in the mud, breath sawing in and out in a harsh wheeze. She struggled out of her pack and leaned against the barrack's east wall.

Around her, the other serviceman recruits muttered darkly, shooting glares at her where she rested.

"Pretty pathetic, Traynor," said Nguyen, a recruit from the far east. He plopped down next to her, offering a chunk of protein bar in one grimy palm.

She took it with a grateful nod, trying to ignore the tingling in her eyes. "I know."

"Why don't you just wash out already? Save the rest of us any more trouble."

Samantha bit her lip hard to keep unwise words from flying out of it. The protein bar sat like ashes on her tongue, chalky and flavorless.

"Stop it, Nguyen," another recruit, Summers, said. The pretty blonde looked down her pert nose at the asian. "She's failing enough on her own. She doesn't need your help."

Was that supposed to be some sort of defense? Was it supposed to help? It hurt more than the direct insult Nguyen struck. Samantha looked down and blinked rapidly, swearing to herself that she'd never cry in front of these assholes.

The unit squared up into formation as their drill instructor popped back into view around the barracks. Traynor locked her knees to keep them from shaking as she stood at parade rest.

"Hope you got a second wind, recruits! We're running the obstacle courses tonight! C'mon, double time!" The sergeant led them up a hill at a jog, to where large wooden structures stood silhouetted against the starry sky. Floodlights illuminated the area somewhat. Some soldiers already danced along the ropes and platforms at the top.

Samantha paused with the rest of the recruits, looking up at the dizzying heights with trepidation. D.I. Handy looked back at them and shouted, "What are you waiting for? An invitation? Move it! Move it!"

Traynor struggled up and down steeplechases, ropeclimbs and rickety single-slat bridges. A couple of times, the recruit behind her gave her a little shove if he thought she was being slow. She resisted the urge to push him off the twenty-foot drop once or twice.

Then, came the part she dreaded most. The damn rope net. She could never get the hang of it. Her hands and feet never wanted to find and keep purchase during the long, inverted, angled climb that became vertical for the last hundred feet or so. With a grunt for every awkward swing, she ascended. Soon, she found herself pushed to the margins by the faster recruits around her. She cursed at herself to move faster.

"What _are_ you doing?" said a voice at her elbow. Traynor's head whipped around and she found herself looking into a warm smile on a freckled face topped with short, red hair. A long scar ran across the bridge of a nose that must have been broken once or twice. The floodlights glinted in eyes the color of spring grass.

Shutting her mouth with a snap, Samantha growled, "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm climbing this damn rope net."

"Is _that_ what that is? Climbing. Huh. Guess I've been doing it wrong all these years." The soldier at her side snickered. Traynor inched along, keenly aware of being observed by the redhead next to her. The mystery soldier sighed after a few minutes and said, "Okay, I just _can't_ any more. It's almost painful. Look at me. Watch."

Like a spider, the soldier clambered along ahead. The rope net barely swayed over her as she worked it masterfully. Mouth agape, Samantha tried to see what she did that was different from what the recruit was doing.

The redhead turned about and came back in her direction, with the same seamless agility. "See? Heel, then toe. Heel, then toe. Wrap your hands on the next hold like this. Make sure you're anchored at three points before you move the fourth."

Warmth rushed through Samantha as she felt the movements become more natural. She snorted a laugh as what was once near impossible became ridiculously easy. Her arms and legs still ached with the exertion of holding her weight aloft, but she no longer fought herself and that, _that_, made all the difference.

"Yeah, _there_ you go!"

The praise uplifted her.

As they got to the vertical portion, the redhead showed her how to transition without losing momentum. How not to dangle like an ass with her feet kicking the air. And how best to work the rope, to make it more like a ladder and less like a shapeless tangle.

For the first time in weeks, success tickled her. A rush of energy bubbled up out of that feeling and soon, she scampered along at a fair pace, even passing some of her own comrades.

Her erstwhile companion started taking bigger and bigger risks. Daring, dangerous feats that never failed to pull a gasp or a laugh out of Traynor's mouth. As they came to the net a second time, Samantha went hand over hand with confidence while the redhead ... _played_. She'd thrust her feet through and hook them at the knee, then swing her whole body back and catch the ropes with her hands, only to swing her legs forward and up and through once again. Like an acrobat. With a huge grin plastered over her sweaty face the entire time.

Amazed, Samantha followed, using the simpler, less insane method. She met the redhead at the top, where the soldier straddled the beam over which the net stretched. Traynor took the hand offered and copied her new friend's stance, scooting back to the other end of the beam so others could pass.

"I used to be like you, you know," confided the redhead. "I couldn't find my ass with both hands and a map when I first came to boot camp. Thought the life I left behind was so hard nothing the military offered could possibly be as difficult. Thought I was tough. And I was arrogant about it. Loud. I, um, caught a lot of shit."

"I don't think of myself as tough. The opposite, in fact."

"I don't mean that way. I mean ... some people can take to this life like ... a duck to water. And for others, it's more difficult." The redhead looked at her sidelong as she pulled another struggling recruit up and over the beam. With a pat and an encouraging word, she nodded them on. "I was focused too much on what it _should_ be like that I couldn't accept it for what it is."

"But I'm _not_ like you. I'm not as physically ... able." Samantha ducked her head at this admission. That sweet, small taste of victory started to wane as her earlier misery came to mind.

"Well, we're not all destined for the front lines. You look like you might be headed the brainier route, yeah? Support, or engineering corps, or something like that?" At her nod, the redhead pushed on, "Well, basic training is like condoms. Better to have it and not need it, than to need it-"

"And not have it." Samantha gave a sheepish smile. "Not that condoms are ever anything I'll ever need."

"Maybe it's not the best analogy for everyone, but you get my drift." The soldier grinned back. "If you ever find yourself on the run with bullets chasing you, then you'll be glad they made you march and jump and climb and everything. And trust me, this does get easier. The muscles start to remember. And then there goes half the work."

Samantha giggled, reassured by the utter conviction in the woman's tone. She dropped a hand to pull a panting Nguyen up and over, smiling when the taciturn asian grunted a hasty thanks. Then her companion caught her attention again with motion.

The redhead stood on the beam, balancing with easy grace. For the first time, Traynor noticed the red, white and black N6 logo on her sweatshirt. The soldier said, "If this were impossible, then all these dumb grunts wouldn't be able to do it. You'll find that often the biggest obstacle is yourself. All you have to do is get out of your own way."

She pointed at a group of marines standing on the ground nearby. "See that tall chick there? Glasses, black hair? I'm shipping out at 0500 for zero-g training, but you need anything, pointers, help, whatever, you go to her and tell her Shepard sent you."

With that, the redhead climbed onto a wooden support. A cable ran from the top of it to the unlit ground at a steep-ish angle. Shepard swung onto it so her weight was centered over it, one leg straight back, the other curled around the wire. Her glittering eyes found Traynor, pinned her where she sat and making her guts do a funny little wobble. Shepard said, with a sly smirk, "Adios, labonita."

Samantha watched as the soldier's arms went out to each side. The redhead started to slide backwards down the cable, picking up speed. So fast! She called after Shepard, "You're crazy!"

Just before the night swallowed her, the redhead saluted and shouted back, "Absolutely fahrbot!"

Crazy and a Farscape fan? And admit it, a little hot. _Okay, a lot hot_. So preoccupied was she that she didn't even notice finishing the obstacle course and rejoining the ranks of her group until D.I. Sergeant Handy shouted right in her ear, "Much better, serviceman! A bit more of _that_ when the sun is _up_ and I _might_ get a decent night's sleep _once_ in a while. Late chow, shower, bunk. In that order! Dismissed!"

As the group dispersed, Traynor pondered all she'd learned. The new perspective she'd gained.

Stop thinking of things as obstacles in her path. Start believing they're just challenges to be conquered. Where her vision had stopped at each one, she could now see past them. Beyond them.

And all it took was a helpful hand.

An inspiring word.

Maybe she could make this work after all.

Two months later at graduation, Samantha stood smartly at attention in a sea of new soldiers. Across the square full of her fellow soldiers in rank and file, she could see all those who'd come out to attend, to celebrate their loved ones' transformation from everyday civilian to Alliance Navy Service Member.

Her family was there, their faces beaming. Helia sat near the front, her eyes shining, proud of her for sticking to it, even though the asari had expressed regret for not being able to take her friend to her homeworld. She basked in the warmth of their regard as she listened to the commencement speech.

A flash of red caught her eye. In the back of the crowd, in full officer dress blues, stood _(Commander?!)_ Shepard. She smiled over the masses on the parade grounds, meeting some eyes with a smile or a wave. Traynor felt a touch of disappointment when the redhead failed to notice her. It seemed Samantha was just one of many.

Shepard turned away to speak to someone, an older dark-skinned man to her left in a Captain's uniform.

Traynor thought then when the disappointment faded that instead of jealousy at not being the only one helped by the Commander, she felt a deeper respect blossom. That she'd pause to help so many.

And a hope that perhaps one day, even if the redhead didn't remember her, they'd meet again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well, there it is. My secret Santa fic-swappy gift to Selena Shepard, who wanted a story about Samantha Traynor's days in Basic. Forgive any inaccuracies in regards to military structure. I was never in any of the services. I have only the stories of mein father and the likes of Full Metal Jacket to draw from. Feel free to leave a comment, criticism, what have you. Cheers!**


End file.
